


Just This Once

by Anonymous



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26180386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kili hopes to find a certain someone waiting for him in his chambers.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: GatheringFiKi - Secret Admirers 2020





	Just This Once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PatchworkIdeas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkIdeas/gifts).



> For dear Patches! A thank you for your sweetness, kindness, advice, support, and friendship. Not to mention the gifts and works you've given us. <3

It was a common occurrence for Kíli to walk to his chambers in darkness. The sky had been black for quite some time, but the grey smoke floating along the ceiling told him that the torches had only recently been extinguished. Like a wagging finger, it said  _ You should have been in bed long ago, young prince. _

It was well known, especially among the torches of the corridors, that Kíli was prone to losing track of the time. Tonight, the hours had passed with quick, sneaky steps as he looked over the weapons in the armory that was set deep within the mountain. The evening had started with an offer from an eager craftsman-  _ Let me show you our newest, my prince- _ and ended with Kíli sharpening blades and arrowheads, left to himself in the candlelight. For once he enjoyed the quiet as he let his mind wander while his hands moved of their own accord, busy with duties of old.

But now it was late and he must return to his chambers. He would be missed. He would be waited for.

A smirk spread over his mouth and he allowed it. It was a small, crooked thing he’d long ago learned to hide from prying eyes or curious minds. The spare wasn’t always treated with as much respect or discretion as the heir and he didn’t need anyone asking him,  _ What makes you smile so, my prince? Who must you be thinking of, my prince? _

Now that he was alone, however, he let his smirk gleam. He let it be assuming and cocky and dirty because everyone else was asleep except for him and, he hoped, his lover.

So he slithered through the dark corridors until a sharp blade of yellow light over black stone proved his wishes true. Feet brought him to the glowing door and thoughts brought lust into his eyes and he entered his already occupied chambers.

“Waiting for m-” he began. 

But the air rushed from his lungs in a soft sigh and his thirst was replaced with pure, unadulterated affection for there was Fíli, lying in his bed dead asleep. Snoring loudly with what could have been an oliphaunt’s screech on every inhale. Body cricked at the shoulder and hip as he tried to fit himself into the warm quilts that were every inch covered in scrolls and books and papers full of his scrawled notes. 

Kíli had often found himself entering a similar scene. Most times he was there to watch Fíli doze and make bets with himself on whether the heavy book his brother was holding would wake him when it fell into his lap or if the hardcover would be another bed partner for the two of them until morning.

Kíli had never seen exactly this, however. Fíli was absolutely surrounded and clearly exhausted by his work and he hadn’t planned to relieve himself of it any time soon. His inkwell was still precariously balanced by his pillow and the pen still sat in his stubby little fingers, about to drip once more on the already splattered paper beneath his hand.

It all made Kíli shake his head. But the action, the feelings were so fond, so full of love, he could have drowned right there in the center of the room. 

He may have been mumbling about his brother as he snuffed out most of the candles- _ idiot _ and  _ moron- _ but it was done through a smile only Fíli could bring to his face and a gentleness only Fíli could bring to his hands.

He put markers in the heavy books, threw sand over the pages with handwritten notes, and balanced weights on the ends of open scrolls so as to keep Fíli’s mind and place exactly where it was before he fell asleep. Fíli had a knack for waking up and diving straight back into his work before his eyes were even fully open, but he also had a habit of snarling about when his things weren’t left the way he put them.

“No complaints now, brother,” Kíli whispered as he set all the supplies on the floor around them, everything exactly as it was laid out on the bed. 

With one last glance to his handiwork, he shoved off his boots and threw away his trousers so he could climb under the quilts next to Fíli and shimmy down to his usual place of  _ little spoon. _

He was thrown another curved arrow, however, when Fíli grunted, mumbled, sighed and rolled over Kíli. He was pinned by an arm as heavy as a dead orc over his belly and a sleep-warm forehead snuggled under his own night-cool chin.

Kíli’s chest was against him. It defied his jealousy, frustration and fatigue and swelled, full to the brim of pride and tenderness. His arm took the lead and tightened around Fíli, pulling him in closer.

With a wriggle and a nose buried in blonde waves he said, “Just this once,” and actively hoped the exact opposite. 


End file.
